


Love

by assassinslover



Category: Hanna (2011)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:39:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassinslover/pseuds/assassinslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knows exactly where she is in the abandoned park in relation to the house, and where the house is in relation to the whole of Germany, where Germany is in relation to the rest of Europe, where Europe is on the planet Earth, where Earth is in the galaxy, where the galaxy is in relation to other known galaxies and asteroid belts and star systems and nebulas and-</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love

She goes back to Grimm's house first. She wanders as if lost, but she isn't really. She knows exactly where she is in the abandoned park in relation to the house, and where the house is in relation to the whole of Germany, where Germany is in relation to the rest of Europe, where Europe is on the planet Earth, where Earth is in the galaxy, where the galaxy is in relation to other known galaxies and asteroid belts and star systems and nebulas and-

Her side throbs sharply, like a knife being dug into her skin. Blood slowly continues to seep through her sweater to coat her fingers, but the flow is already beginning to clot. She knows the bullet must still be lodged in her body, because she can't feel an exit wound. Maybe there are supplies there she can use. Papa, Erik, taught her how to treat her own injuries, read from his book about fractures and breaks and punctures and gouges. She knows how to set a broken leg, how to stitch up an open gash. She thinks that removing a bullet can't be that hard. She knows what a hospital is, but going to one would result in people and people ask questions and questions lead to trouble and she's in enough of that as it is.

Removing a bullet is harder than it sounds. Her eyes and cheeks are wet with tears when she's done, and her fingers and side and the small, metal prongs she found are bloody and the wound burns, but she holds the small round in her hands with a faint sense of pride. Her eyes catch the bracelet. She's gotten blood on it. The one Sophie gave her all those nights ago in Spain. She ignores the pain in her side when she sprints off the bed and hurries to the pond with the oversized swans that she jumped across before and shoves her hand in the water and scrubs until the red blemish is gone. She holds it to her chest, water dripping onto her shirt, and strokes her fingers across the fabric.

An unfamiliar feeling grows in her chest and stomach, so strong that she feels ill, like the time when she caught a fever from staying out in the snow for too long. She hopes they are safe, Sophie and her family. She has to find them. Would they still take her back after all that happened to them because of her and the lies that she told? Would Rachel and Sebastian trust her around their children? She knows how protective parents are of their offspring. They were nice, though, they trusted her when they didn't know anything about her, when they just thought she was a German girl travelling abroad, whose father encouraged independence and whose mother died from three bullets.

The problem is knowing where to start.

 

She knows that in times of danger, animals retreat to places they find safe. She knows humans are the same way. Whenever she was scared by a noise or something she saw when she was very little, she would run home as fast as she could and find comfort and safety in the warmth of the fire and the protection of her father's arms. Sophie and her family are British, therefore the natural place for them to return to would be to Great Britain. To England. If they are still alive. She hopes they are. She knows little of the men that Marissa had recruited to help find her, but the fact that they'd known where she was going meant something. Maybe they had gotten the information they needed and left the family in peace. Or maybe they had been eliminated.

She refuses to think about that scenario.

 

It isn't hard to get to England. She hides away on trains and buses, steals food when she has to, hunts rabbits in the woods when she can and eventually makes her way to the strip of water that separates England from the rest of Europe. She sees a boat with people leisurely being loaded onto it, and almost moves to board it herself, but then she sees a man checking for pieces of paper and she turns and runs. She waits for the boat with the people to leave and then follows in its wake.

Her body is tired by the time she finally reaches land. She collapses on the bank and lets the ocean waves lap at her. She closes her eyes, but doesn't sleep. Her clothes slowly dry and the salt makes them feel stiff and uncomfortable, like leather that hasn't been worn in yet. People look at her strangely when she finds the ferry again. She must look very odd, with salt water and blood stained clothes and hair filled with tangles and knots. She ignores them.

She spends hours searching the area for Sophie, but none of the faces she sees are familiar. They would have come this way. It's the easiest, most direct route from where they'd been, somewhere close to France, she thinks, for them to get home. After her search reveals nothing, she finds a place to curl up and tries to sleep. It doesn't come easy, and when it does it's light and fitful, but it's better than no sleep at all. Sleep deprivation leads to poor memory, lack of concentration, impaired vision...

 

A miracle is an effect or extraordinary even in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause. It must be one of them that leads her to one of those... television sets, where she sees Sophie's and Miles' and Rachel's and Sebastian's faces on it in a photograph of them all together, with a man talking in an odd inflection. A family from Haxby, North Yorkshire, abducted and incarcerated while travelling to France by two men and a woman, asking about their travelling companion. Escaped from captivity. The family refuses to describe the persons involved, and simply wishes to put everything behind them and be left alone. She stands transfixed until the report is over and the man in the box has moved on to something else.

Getting to Haxby is considerably harder than getting to England. A country is easy to find, a small town she's never heard of before is not, but “North Yorkshire” must be in the North, so she heads North until she finds herself in a city. She finds a place like the one in Germany, one with computers, and searches for the town. She feels better when she has an absolute destination. Determination sets in. Still struggling with how to use the machine, she tries to find the quickest way to get up North. The train seems to be the easiest way. They're loud and she doesn't like them, but it's faster than walking and she's less likely to get lost.

As much as she wants to avoid talking to anyone, she finds herself needing to ask what trains are going where, confusion spreading across her face as she tries to make sense of all the names and numbers displayed on boards hanging around the station. A woman with a kind face writes down a schedule for her on a piece of paper, and asks if she would like any help buying a ticket.

“No,” she says. “Thank you, but I don't have enough money for a ticket. I just wanted to know how to get there.” The woman looks at her strangely, although it's different from how the people at the ferry looked at her, and then reaches into the bag on her shoulder. She takes a step back reflexively, but all the woman does is pull out several money notes and hand them to her.

“I have a feeling,” she says, “that whatever reason you have for wanting to know is extremely important to you, so get on that train and don't worry about a thing.” She doesn't know what to do except to thank the woman again. She knows such acts of kindness between human beings are not unheard of, Sophie's family had shown it to her before, but she still finds it slightly unbelievable.

 

She clutches to her written schedule like a lifeline, curled up on a seat in a back corner in a quiet car with her head pressed against the glass window. Simplified, the words say from here to London, from London to York, from York she'll need to find a bus unless she wants to walk and from there she'll need to find where the family lives. They're alive, she thinks. They're alive and they're safe and they're home and she knows where they are and she's going to find them and apologize to them all for lying and after that... well she doesn't know what she's going to do after that but right now the most important thing is getting to them. Getting to Sophie.

She touches the bracelet around her wrist.

 

She sleeps lightly after the stop at London after checking that she's on the correct train. She was afraid that the noise and the bumping and the rumbling would keep her awake, but it isn't the case. She's still alert, though. _Adapt or die, think on your feet, even when you're sleeping._ She still doesn't like cities, all the noise and people. She knows what Rachel meant when she said the city is stifling, but if that's the truth then why would their family live here? She finds a bus stop nearby, and asks one of the people if it'll take her to Haxby. They grunt and nod in response. She waits patiently, not moving a muscle, still clutching to her now crumpled schedule and checking every few minutes to make sure that her bracelet hasn't somehow fallen off of her wrist.

She shoves the rest of the money she has in the plastic box when she sees other people doing the same and says.

“I'd like to go to Haxby, please.” The driver looks at her oddly, then tells her to take a seat. She perches near the front. The bus is full of people noise. There are children around her age talking very loudly at each other. She thinks they're fighting until they begin to laugh. She looks around the window. Excitement unfurls in her stomach and sends her heart racing. She sits perfectly still though, her training governing her actions. Do not move until the appropriate time, do not scare away your prey. It's easier when they're taken unaware. She doesn't want to take Sophie unaware, but she doesn't want to betray her feelings to these strange people. Just in case.

She waits a few stops before she gets off with a large amount of people, who immediately disperse into the nearby shops. Sophie likes shopping, maybe she'll be here.

 

She comes to the conclusion that the bracelet must bring her good luck, because she picks up Sophie's familiar voice coming from down the street, shouting at someone to get away from her. She starts to run towards the sound, adrenaline filling her veins. Sophie's in danger. She won't let her get hurt again, not by anyone. She charges through the group of people surrounding Sophie. Something large falls to the ground and cracks. A camera. The man who dropped it yells loudly at her.

“Oi! That's a fucking expensive piece of equipment! Watch it!” She glares at him and blocks Sophie's body with hers.

“Leave her alone.”

“Hanna!” Sophie exclaims, sounding surprised. Hanna turns her head to look back at her.

“Are they hurting you?” she asks.

“No!” Sophie says. “They're just stupid reporters.” Sophie grabs her arms and pulls her away, shoving through the people around them and marching swiftly through the street. Hanna feels the force behind the tug on her wrist, but Sophie's grip is weak enough that she could easily slip out of it. Sophie bundles them both onto another bus, pays for both of them, and plants Hanna securely in a seat near the back, sitting heavily next to her. Hanna's heart is beating in her throat instead of in her chest where it should be. She doesn't feel excited anymore. Sophie doesn't say anything to her. Hanna looks at her out of the corner of her eye. She looks very pretty. Prettier than she did in Spain, if a bit paler and a bit more subdued. Hanna touches the bracelet.

“Are you angry with me?” Hanna asks. Sophie looks at her.

“No. I don't know. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to find you,” Hanna says.

“Yeah, but _how_?”

“I found you on the television box.”

“Screen,” Sophie corrects. Hanna looks at her curiously. “The television screen.”

“Screen,” Hanna repeats. “Are you taking me home?”

“Yeah,” Sophie tells her.

 

“Home” turns out to be a warm looking house near a large stretch of grass that Hanna recognizes as a “park.” Sophie lets them through the gate. There's no sign of the white automobile by the house, or any sort of automobile, and the house does not look like anyone is inside it.

“Is everyone else okay?” Hanna asks.

“Yeah,” Sophie says as she opens the door and ushers Hanna inside. Hanna notices her lock it securely behind her. She looks around in wonder at the house, the photos on the walls, the flowers in pots and things hanging off the ceiling that make noise when she brushes her fingers against them.

“You have a very nice home,” Hanna says, turning around to look back at Sophie.

“Come upstairs,” Sophie says in response. “You look like you haven't bathed in weeks. Are those the same clothes I gave you?” Hanna looks down at herself, the stiff, salt-stained grey sweater and blue jeans.

“Yes. I don't have any other clothes. There are no deer to hunt here.” Her eyes light up. “Can I have a bath?”

“Haven't you ever had a bath before?” Sophie asks. Hanna shakes her head. She remembers the strange contraption in Morocco with the dial that made water appear when she pulled it. “Come on, then.”

Sophie sets up the bath for her, constantly putting her hand under the water and adjusting the handles on the wall. Hanna watches in amazement as the girl in front of her controls the flow of water, turning it on and off at will. When Sophie shuts the water off and looks at her, Hanna begins to struggle out of her clothes. She doesn't understand why Sophie looks away, or why her face turns very red. Hanna carefully steps into the tub and lowers herself into the water. It's warm enough to steam slightly. It feels good on everything except her side, which stings horribly when it's submerged.

“Right, I'm just going to go get you some food,” she says.

“No!” Hanna calls out. Sophie stops with her hand on the door. “I'd like you to stay. Please.” She can't see Sophie's face but she can see the conflict she's having in the tension of her shoulders. “I've never had a bath like this before. Is it the same as using a bucket of water?” Sophie turns around, still trying not to look at her, her face still red, and shrugs her shoulders. She stays though, kneeling by the edge of the tub and beginning to wash Hanna's hair. It's a comforting feeling, having Sophie's fingers work through weeks of tangles, although at one point she leaves to get a brush to help her. When Hanna uses a length of cloth to help scrub sea water and dirt off of her body, the dried blood crusted around her bullet wound comes off as well. Sophie glances at the small cloud of red in the water and frowns.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, her hands stilling in Hanna's hair.

“Marissa Wiegler shot me,” Hanna says. She hears Sophie gasp. “I killed her.” Sophie's hands leave her hair, and suddenly she's in Hanna's line of sight.

“Why haven't you gone to a hospital?”

“Because I'm abnormal. I don't think it would be a very good idea. It's okay, I got the bullet out. It doesn't hurt so much now.”

“You took it out _yourself_?” Sophie asks, sounding surprised and appalled and disgusted all at the same time.

“Of course I did,” Hanna replies. Sophie stares at her for a few seconds, and then takes the cloth from her and begins to scrub the last of the dirt from her skin.

 

When her bath is over, her body is pink all over, like Sophie's face was, and her hair hangs heavy against her back. Sophie hands her a towel to dry herself with, and helps her wrap it around her body. Hanna notices her hands are shaking.

“Come on, let's find you some clothes that haven't been completely ruined. And a plaster so you don't get blood on them.”

“A plaster?” Hanna asks, holding her towel to her chest.

“For your side,” Sophie says.

“Oh. Okay,” Hanna says. Sophie takes a box from the cabinet on the wall and Hanna follows her down the hall to what she assumes is Sophie's bedroom. “I've never had a room of my own,” Hanna says, looking around. The walls are white, but covered in pictures. She sits on a very comfortable, if slightly small, bed while Sophie finds her clothes to wear. She gives Hanna a pair of worn looking shorts first, and turns back to Hanna a couple seconds lately with a large plaster and a larger shirt. At least it looks like it would be large on Sophie, but she's somewhat taller than the English girl. Sophie firmly presses the bandage over Hanna's side. Her face is red again. Hanna wonders if it's because she's still not wearing a shirt, although she can't imagine why Sophie would be embarrassed about seeing another human body. She knows that her and Sophie are built the same way. She doesn't have anything that Sophie doesn't. She doesn't think.

The shirt covers down to her hips. It's comfy and warm and smells like Sophie. She sits on the bed while Sophie takes the towel back to the bathroom with the box of plasters. She doesn't come into the room again, but stops at the open door.

“Are you coming down to get food or what?” she asks. “You look like a twig. Well, more of a twig than you usually look.” Hanna smiles and stands.

“I would like waffles, please.” One of Sophie's eyebrows shoot up.

“Okay, I'll give it a go.” Hanna's head cocks to the side slightly. “I'll try.” Hanna's smile widens.

“Good.”

 

Sophie watches Hanna wolf down her food, obviously not caring that Sophie had monumentally fucked up making them, with the stack coming out mostly burned and not at all appealing. Occasionally, Hanna looks up and smiles and once asks if Sophie would like some to eat, too, but Sophie shakes her head and curls herself into a ball on the kitchen chair, with her knees pulled against her chest and her arm keeping them in place. She tries to think of how to explain Hanna's sudden reappearance to her parents. They didn't seem upset that Hanna had put their lives in danger, however unintentional it had been, and had been constantly concerned about whether she was safe or not, so Sophie hopes that it won't be a big deal.

When Hanna's finished eating, she helps Sophie clean the dishes and then follows her back upstairs, perching on the edge of her bed, looking part relaxed and part like she'll hop up and run off at the slightest provocation.

“Are we still friends, Sophie?” Hanna asks. Sophie sits next to her on the bed and takes one of her hands. Hanna grips it tightly.

“Of course we are,” she says before she's fully aware of what's coming out of her mouth. “I'm sorry I broke my promise and went after you.” She remembers the sight of the knife slicing through clothes and flesh, and all the blood, the blank look on Hanna's face. She shakes her head slightly. Hanna gives her a puzzled look.

“It's okay,” Hanna says. She looks down at her and Sophie's hands, where Sophie's thumb is stroking along Hanna's knuckles. Sophie immediately stops and feels her face turn red for the billionth time today. “Did Marissa hurt you?” Hanna asks, worry in her eyes.

“No,” Sophie replies. “Just scared the shit out of us. I still haven't forgiven Miles for telling that ginger bitch where you went.” Hanna looks slightly alarmed.

“You should not hate your brother, Sophie,” she says firmly. It reminds Sophie of the night in the tent in Spain when Hanna had forcefully defended her normalcy when Sophie asked what was wrong with her. The train of thought takes her to bracelets and promises and soft lips against her own.

“I don't,” Sophie says. Hanna's eyes soften slightly.

“Good,” she says.

“I'm just mad at him,” Sophie continues. “You could have been hurt.” Could have been, Sophie thinks, _was_ hurt, but she doubts very much that anything or anyone could seriously injure the girl.

“You care if I get hurt?” Hanna asks. She sounds slightly surprised.

“Of course I care. We're friends. I like you, Hanna.” The words make Hanna smile. Sophie wonders if she knows how beautiful she looks with her eyes and face lit up like a Christmas tree. Christ, curiosity about a strange German girl and one short kiss and she's thinking like a proper lesbian. Her fingers brush Hanna's wrist as she moves to take her hand away. “You still have it.”

“Yes. It got blood on it when I was tending to my wound, but don't worry. I washed it off before it could stain.” Sophie's stomach twists uncomfortably. Hanna suddenly yawns, then blushes and apologizes.

“When was the last time you slept?” Sophie asks. Hanna shrugs her shoulders.

“I don't know. I don't need to sleep.”

“You just yawned,” Sophie points out.

“Maybe I need to sleep a little...” Hanna concedes. “Can I sleep here? Your bed is much comfier than the ground. It's like a hundred piles of fur.”

“Yeah,” Sophie says absently. “Make yourself at home.” Hanna smiles happily and is burrowed under Sophie's blankets within seconds, taking Sophie with her. She lies above the sheets. Hanna's grip on her hip is like a vice, and the touch burns her skin. For someone who looks so frail, Hanna is surprisingly strong. Everything is silent for a while. Sophie listens to Hanna's breathing. “Hanna?” She gets a sleepy,

“Yes?” in return.

“Where are you from?”

“Leipzig.”

“No, where do you come from? Tell me the truth.”

“The forest.”

 

Hanna wakes up before she does. The slamming of a car door and voices making their way to the door only push into Sophie's consciousness after Hanna's movement has woken her up. When she opens her eyes, Hanna is sat upright, stiff as a board, one of her hands pressing into the bed on Sophie's other side almost protectively. Sophie rubs at her eyes and wonders when and how she drifted off in the first place when she wasn't even tired.

“Hanna, what are you doing? It's just Mum and Dad. And Miles.”

“Will they be angry if they find me here?”

“No, I don't think so,” Sophie says sleepily. She just wants to go back to sleep, and if her parents happen to find her in bed with Hanna, then oh well, because she's not going to let her friend out of her sight.

“Should we go downstairs?” Hanna asks. Sophie groans, but gets out of bed.

“I guess,” she moans.

The confrontation goes better than Sophie thought it would. Everyone looks surprised and Miles apologizes a billion times for what he did until Sophie rolls her eyes and wants to kick him until he shuts up. Their dad takes him into another room, and then it's Hanna's turn to apologize for dragging the family into her problems and state how she hopes that they'll let her stay here until she can come up with a plan of her own until she's rambling much like Sophie tends to do until her Mum stops her with a hug.

“You're welcome to stay here as long as you like,” Rachel says. “We'll make up the spare room for you.”

“She can stay in my room, Mum,” Sophie interjects. Rachel looks over at her and then back at Hanna.

“Is that okay with you, Hanna?” Hanna smiles.

“Yes. I like her bed very much.” Rachel looks at Sophie again and Sophie finds herself trying very hard to _not_ blush _again_ because _of course_ her mother would jump to some sort of conclusion about how her and Hanna are sleeping together. Or maybe Sophie's the one thinking like that, and her mum is just wondering when Hanna had the chance to make use of Sophie's bed when they've only been gone since midday. She blushes anyway. Fucking hell.

 

Hanna finishes dinner before any of the rest of them do and waits patiently for everyone else to do the same, listening more than talking, although there isn't much conversation. There hasn't been since the night those men came. If Hanna notices the difference, she doesn't make it known to anyone else. After dinner, she happily helps clean the dishes again and then quietly makes an exit. Sophie finds her upstairs, in the middle of doing push ups. She knows that Hanna heard her come in, but neither of them say a word, although she can hear the soft muttering of Hanna's voice under her light pants of exertion, saying something that sounds like numbers in something that sounds like German. Sophie can't help but think it's extremely attractive. She thinks of the kiss again, as chaste and innocent as it was. They slept so close that night...

“Do you do that every night?” Sophie asks. She's tried working out before, but she's always been more interested in watching boys playing football or working out in the gym than doing any actual work.

“Yes,” Hanna answers simply, getting to her feet. “But I haven't been able to, so I will need to do more than usual to make up for the nights lost.” There's an awkward silence as she tries to think of what to do. Normally she'd be on her laptop, but it seems rude to do that when they have a semi-permanent house guest. Hanna's the one who suggests something. “Do you-” she starts, almost hesitant, like a little kid. “Do you have music?” she finally asks.

“Yeah, loads,” Sophie replies. “Do you want to listen? What kind do you like?”

“I don't know,” Hanna says, scrambling onto the bed and sitting with her legs crossed and her back against the wall. “I've only heard it twice.”

“Didn't you have music in the forest?” Sophie asks, before realizing that might be a stupid question, because what kind of music could someone living in the forest possibly have, unless it's like... folk music or something.

“No. Erik said we didn't need it.” There's a heavy sadness in Hanna's voice. Sophie can't imagine a life without music. She gets her computer and crawls on the bed next to Hanna. Hanna looks at the laptop with a mixture of hesitation and awe, and Sophie finds herself slowly guiding Hanna in its usage, although Hanna shows a very vague familiarity and understanding on how to work it. Her mum pops in with a thick sleeping roll, one of their good ones, and a fluffy pillow and blankets. It makes for a comical sight, watching her trying to get everything into the room _before_ unceremoniously dumping everything on the floor and telling Sophie not to hog the bed. Sophie rolls her eyes with a “yes, Mum” and goes back to trying to figure out what kind of music Hanna would like best.

Nothing too loud, she thinks.

 

They stay up half the night, until Sophie's practically asleep with her head on Hanna's shoulder, the other girl having quickly grasped the basics of using a computer and what Youtube is actually for. She feels her body slipping down slightly, her eyes heavy and her mind only partly aware of where she is, but she feels Hanna's arm around her shoulders and cracks her eyes open enough to see the slight reluctance that Hanna clumsily turns off the computer with.

“You can go to sleep now, Sophie,” Hanna says, sounding tired as well, but not as tired as Sophie feels. “I'll sleep on the floor.”

“Don't be stupid,” Sophie hears herself mumble. If she had the energy she'd roll her eyes. “It'll be warmer if we both sleep in bed.”

That's how it starts, with their feet tangled like that night in Spain, and Hanna's hand clasped in her, their faces inches apart. Sophie can feel Hanna's breath on her lips, and she almost expects another kiss. Part of her _wants_ another kiss, but she's too afraid it initiate it on her own. She tries to fight against the drowsiness that's swiftly threatening to overtake her, brushing her fingers across the back of Hanna's hand and lightly rubbing their ankles together. Her heart is pounding so loud that she'd be surprised if Hanna couldn't hear it. Her parents could probably hear it down at the end of the bloody hall. She inhales deeply.

“Hanna?” Sophie asks in a whisper.

“Yes?” Hanna answers instantly, her voice just as soft.

“Am I the only person you've ever kissed?”

“Yes. It was easier than I thought it would be. It sounds so complicated.” Sophie feels her face begin to burn. “Are you okay?” Hanna asks. “You feel warmer.” Sophie's blush deepens.

“You can feel that?” she asks.

“Yes, is that strange?”

“Yes.” Sophie pauses. “Did you like kissing me?” She waits impatiently for an answer, still feeling Hanna's breath on her skin.

“Yes. Very much. Should I do it again?” Sophie's heart skips slightly. “Why has your breathing changed? Are you sick?”

“No. Do you want to kiss me again?” Sophie asks.

“I would like that very much.” Sophie shuffles forward slightly. She feels Hanna's leg slide against her own, the warmth that the girl's body possesses growing stronger as the distance between them lessens. The sensation of their breasts pressing together is unfamiliar, but nice. Hanna's nose brushes against her cheek first, and her lips follow a second later. It's just as chaste as the first. Hanna's lips are dry and soft. When she pulls away, Sophie's body follows, her lips pressing almost too hard against Hanna's. Kissing a girl is much different from kissing a boy, especially a girl who doesn't appear to have a clue what she's doing. Hanna responds anyway, although it's clumsy and unsure. Sophie pulls away after a couple seconds. She wants to keep kissing but her eyes are too heavy for her to keep them open. Hanna's hand is on her hip again. Sophie lets her eyes slide shut.

 

She wakes up late like she always does to an empty bed and an empty room. She immediately panics. What if she somehow managed to dream everything? What if Hanna hasn't really come back? What if she's in some laboratory having horrible tests run on her or what if that Marissa woman killed her and her body's lying in some ditch in Germany or what if she's been forced to kill people for a living or what if-

“Hello, Sophie,” comes Hanna's voice from the doorway. Sophie's body relaxes instantly. She's holding a plate of food with bacon and cooked eggs, in one hand, with a glass of juice carefully balanced on top of it, and another, similar plate in her other hand. “Rachel suggested that I bring your meal up here, as she believes you were unlikely to remove yourself from your room any time soon, and growing girls need to eat.” Sophie rolls her eyes. “She also told me that you do not like the morning.”

“I don't,” Sophie replies. She holds out her hands for her plate. “Gimme.” Hanna hands her plate over with a smile and sits on the end of the bed with her legs crossed. She watches Sophie eat for a moment, which is surprisingly embarrassing seeing as she's currently stuffing her food into her mouth like a total pig, and then asks,

“I've never had food like this before. Is it good?” Sophie looks down at her plate.

“What did you eat in the forest?”

“Deer mostly,” Hanna replies, poking at her food with her fork. “And rabbit. I made very good stew. And we'd have berries and roots and Papa would sometimes have eggs, but we never cooked them.”

“You ate eggs _raw?_ ” Sophie asks, her nose crinkling in disgust. “That's gross.” Hanna ignores her and looks out the gap in the curtains over the bedroom window.

“I love the morning. Everything is so quiet and peaceful,” she says. Sophie feels a swelling in her chest as she watches Hanna gazing out the window. Her fork pauses halfway to her mouth and slowly lowers back to her plate, settling with a soft clink. When Hanna notices that Sophie's stopped eating she looks over curiously. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sophie says, flushing and turning her attention to her plate. A few seconds later she feels Hanna's eyes leave her and hears the other girl beginning to eat.

 

Hanna volunteers to help Rachel with fetching food for the family after a few days have passed. The volume of people doesn't astound her as it once had, but the abundance of food does. Things she's heard of but never tasted, things she's never seen in her entire life, exotic fruits and greens and rows upon rows of boxes and bags and bottles and cans and people with metal baskets that they fill up with everything. She stays close to Rachel's side, diligently retrieving whatever she's asked to get with efficiency. They don't buy much. Rachel explains in the car that they're going to two different places for the rest, one for produce and one for meat.

“I can hunt rabbit for us,” Hanna offers. Rachel smiles and laughs gently.

“There's no need for that, Hanna,” she says. “We'll just go to the butcher and he'll give us a choice portion of whatever we like.” Hanna smiles. The trip passes without any incidents. No one poses any threat to Rachel or to herself, and soon enough they're back in the car with their food. Hanna watches the world go by outside the window and listens to the music that is playing. It amazes her how things like cars and computers can create music too.

Finally, Hanna asks a question that's been rolling around in her mind for days.

“What does love feel like?” Rachel glances over at her, looking slightly surprised, but then her face softens and she smiles.

“Love... feels like flying and falling all at once,” she says carefully, as if words could be broken as easily as the eggs that Hanna cracks against the counter or the table before she eats them. “It's like.. the sweetest music. It's like being lost in the woods without a torch.” Rachel looks over again. “It's the most wonderful, horrible thing you'll ever feel.” Hanna smiles and Rachel smiles back.

“Thank you,” Hanna says. Silence falls over the car again. It's comfortable, like the ones she shared with Erik in their little cabin in the North in the snow.

“Hanna?” Rachel asks after they pull up outside the house. Hanna turns her head, her arms full of bags. “Hasn't anyone ever loved you?”

“Of course,” Hanna replies. “I think Papa said he loves me like I'm his own flesh and blood, but that's not the same, is it?” Rachel shakes her head.

“No, it isn't. Come on, let's get these inside. Sophie's likely to have a fit if she doesn't get her coffee.” Sophie's name makes a strange warmth spread through Hanna's chest and stomach, like everything involving the English girl has done since Hanna arrived.

“What does coffee taste like?” Hanna asks as they step inside. She never gets an answer, as Sophie barrels out of the family room and begins rooting through the bags in Hanna's arms. Her sudden proximity startles Hanna, but she relaxes quickly and feels her heart start to pound like it does when she's hunting or fighting or exercising. Hanna is familiar with what coffee smells like, and soon the scent fills the air. Hanna sits at the kitchen table while it brews and watches Sophie enter and leave while she waits. When it's finished, Hanna follows Sophie into the family room and sits on the sofa next to her.

“Alright?” Sophie asks.

“Yes.” She glances pointedly at the mug in Sophie's hands. “May I have some?”

“It's hot,” Sophie warns, and hands the cup over to her. Hanna sniffs at it first, out of habit, then places her lips to the rim of the mug and takes a hesitant sip. She feels her features contort and hears Sophie laugh. She hands the mug back quickly.

“That does not taste very nice,” Hanna says. “How can you drink it?” Sophie shrugs.

“I think it tastes good.” Hanna shakes her head.

 

Sophie likes to watch TV, but Hanna sees no appeal in watching moving pictures of people inside a box, so with Sophie's permission she goes upstairs and sits on Sophie's bed and uses Sophie's laptop to listen to music. She listens quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone else, although she doesn't think they'd be able to hear anything from all the way downstairs. When she's called down to dinner, she responds, eats, makes conversation, helps clean, then returns upstairs, even when Sophie shows no signs of following. The English girl shows up after not too long as passed though, and they begin what is becoming a nightly ritual of Sophie introducing Hanna to more and more music, although she makes a point of avoiding “metal” which Sophie doesn't like anyway, and anything similar. Mostly she sticks to things that remind Hanna of the forest. Folk music and classical music and anything with soft, gentle melodies. Hanna likes electronic music, too. Some of it, at least. Usually, she ends up searching and listening by herself while Sophie falls asleep on her shoulder. She doesn't mind it though, she likes having Sophie close, being able to touch her skin and know that she's real and safe.

She would like to kiss Sophie again, too. She quite likes kissing, especially Sophie, who's lips and body are so soft and pleasant to feel, but Sophie hasn't made any indication that she wants Hanna to kiss her again, so Hanna hasn't asked. She really wants to, though. It's enough to share her bed, though. The warmth that Hanna's body produces seems to comfort Sophie, who isn't as used to the cold as Hanna is. Sophie is very... cuddly in her sleep. She thinks that's the right word. And at the current moment, Sophie is falling asleep on her shoulder again, with her fingers on Hanna's wrist, almost holding her hand. The warmth Hanna has been feeling all day makes itself known, accompanied by a strange fluttering in her stomach. She will have to ask Rachel what that's supposed to mean, because she's fairly sure that's not something that human stomachs are supposed to do.

“Sophie?” she asks. Sophie hums. “Are you tired? Shall we sleep now?” Sophie's eyes look heavy, but she keeps them open and looks steadily up at Hanna's face. Hanna looks back. Sophie tilts her head slightly and her lips brush against Hanna's jaw. Hanna's heart does a strange flip in her chest, and her stomach tightens. She can feel the muscles grow taut, even though she's not flexing them. Sophie kisses her jaw again. “Sophie?” Hanna asks and is surprised when her voice comes out barely a whisper.

“Yes?” Sophie whispers back.

“What's a lesbian?” She can feel Sophie laughing at her.

“You don't know what a lesbian is?” she asks. Hanna shakes her head. “A girl who likes girls.”

“I like you, does that mean I'm a lesbian?” Hanna asks. She'd never heard the word before Sophie had said it in Morocco.

“No, a lesbian wants to do stuff like... kiss and have sex with girls,” Sophie explains, her voice suddenly sounding very meek.

“Oh.” Hanna's afraid she's said the wrong thing again. Sophie's quiet for a long while. Eventually she motions for the computer. Hanna hands it to her and lets her shut it down and put it to the side. It takes Sophie longer than usual to fall asleep.

 

Hanna decides to do research. She almost uses Sophie's laptop, but that would be too obvious, and the thought of asking Rachel to explain what lesbians and lesbian sex are makes her cheeks burn. She leaves Sophie sleeping in bed, and instead asks Rachel if there are any public computers she can use.

“There are internet cafés,” Rachel tells her, “but they're all in the city. Why can't you use Sophie's?”

“It's a surprise,” Hanna says. “May I have money for a bus?” Rachel smiles at her and leaves the room for a few minutes. When she returns, she has paper money and coins and a piece of paper with a number on it.

“If you get lost or anything find a phone and give us a ring,” Rachel says. She tugs slightly on one sleeve of Hanna's shirt, borrowed from Sophie. “We'll have to get you your own clothes, soon.”

“I would like that very much,” Hanna says. “Thank you for the money.”

“I hope you find what you're looking for, Hanna.”

 

She doesn't get lost. Even as she walks around the streets searching for her destination, she keeps track of each turn she takes so she can retrace her steps later. She walks around until she finds a place that isn't crowded, and sits as far away from other people as she can. She's much better at using computers now. She can't help but feel proud. Hanna checks over her shoulder, but no one is paying any attention to her. Just to be sure, she shortens the window on the screen like she'd seen Sophie do before and types “lesbian” into the bar.

She spends a good few hours searching, constantly looking around to make sure no one can see what she's looking at. There's no need to initiate any awkward conversations. For good measure, she looks up sex as well. Papa had included general explanations of human reproduction in his lessons, but they were vague and he seemed very uncomfortable talking about it, which always made Hanna smile and chuckle. Some of the images she sees make her blush, but don't generate any of the feelings she gets around Sophie. However, a more specific search makes both blushing and a tightness in her stomach occur.

She feels more confident when she returns home, excitement filling her chest. Her good mood dissipates when she returns home to a hushed argument between Sebastian and Rachel. Hanna lingers around the corner, pressing her body against the wall.

“She put our family in _danger_ , Rachel,” she hears Sebastian say. “She almost got us all killed. We don't know anything about her. It's not safe to have her around the kids, or around us. Sophie and Miles are already in therapy, and I know Sophie gets harassed by reporters half the time she goes out to shop. What if those people come for her again? What then?”

“She has nowhere else to go,” Rachel counters. “We're the only people she has in this world. And have you noticed that since Hanna's been here, Sophie's nightmares have stopped?” Sebastian is silent. “Like it or not, this is her home until she chooses to leave. I'll not leave an orphaned child out on the streets.” Hanna slinks down the wall when Sebastian leaves the room, but he doesn't see her. Quietly, she goes to Sophie's room.

“You were gone for ages,” Sophie says when she shuts the door. She's looking through a magazine. Hanna sits on the bed and gently takes it out of her hands. “Oi,” Sophie protests.

“Why are you in therapy?” Hanna asks. Sophie's face goes very white.

“I'm not,” she says. It's a very bad lie. Even if Hanna didn't already know the truth she would have seen through it.

“Tell me the truth,” Hanna says. Sophie doesn't seem able to meet her eyes. “Is it because of what you saw?” More silence. “Why did you follow me?” Sophie shrugs her shoulders.

“I was worried about you. I thought... I didn't... I don't know, okay? I didn't want them to hurt you.” Hanna reaches for Sophie's hands and holds one with both of hers. “And then that creep came after me and then you were there and... you were really scary.” Hanna feels like something is squeezing her heart. _Abnormal_ echoes in her head. _Because I'm a freak._ Erik had denied it, but deep in the centre of her chest, Hanna still feels it.

“I will never let anything happen to you, Sophie,” she says firmly. She doesn't tell Sophie that they're dead. She doesn't know if it would comfort her or upset her more, even though Hanna wasn't the one who killed them. Papa had taught her when to stay silent.

She finds herself very close to Sophie's face. She can feel the English girl's breath on her lips. All the knowledge she gained comes flooding back. She wants to kiss Sophie. She likes kissing Sophie. She thinks she'd like to do more than that but she's still not completely sure. Most of the research she did tuned up useless information, and she'd like to know what she's doing before she dives into anything. Or at least have an idea. _Always be ready._ Sophie's pupils are very dilated. Her breathing is slightly ragged. Signs of arousal. Hanna's throat goes dry.

Rachel's voice calling them down for a meal breaks the moment, but the look in Sophie's eyes and the tightness in Hanna's abdomen signal that it's not over yet.

 

While Hanna's silence doesn't draw any questions, as she usually spends most of her time listening to the family rather than engaging in conversation with them, the absence of Sophie's rambling earns odd stares and eventual questions. Hanna avoids looking at Sebastian.

“I just don't feel very well,” Sophie says. It's a better lie than the last, but her parents don't see through it like Hanna does.

“You do look a bit pale, love,” Rachel says, leaning over and placing her hand against Sophie's brow. “You should go lay down and see if you feel better. I'll save some leftovers for you for tomorrow.” Sophie pushes her chair back without a word. Hanna watches her leave. Sebastian frowns at her. Hanna slowly eats her food, hoping that Sophie's okay. She can feel the nervousness in her stomach. She continues to sit after she finishes eating, waiting for everyone else to finish and does the dishes by herself. She uses the time to think.

She likes Sophie. She likes kissing Sophie. Does that make her a lesbian? Does Sophie _like_ lesbians? She did mention wanting to be one, after all, but then she said she'd probably marry a man, but she seems to like kissing Hanna, too, so maybe she likes lesbians _and_ boys. Maybe Rachel can help. Hanna makes a mental note to ask her about it when they go get Hanna her own clothes, which Rachel said they'll do tomorrow.

When she finally goes upstairs, Sophie is already in bed under the covers. Hanna thinks she's asleep until she peeks out over the edge of a blanket and then pulls it back for Hanna to get in. She changes first, into the same shorts and shirt that she's been wearing to sleep in since she arrived and then slides into bed.

“Would you like to go shopping tomorrow?” she asks. “We're going to buy me new clothes.” Sophie rewards her with a small smile.

“Yeah,” she replies, sounding excited about the prospect of picking out clothes for Hanna to wear. “I know just what would look good on you, not that you don't look good in my clothes, but you could pull off stuff that I can't, 'cos you're like super skinny, and-” Hanna closes her eyes and listens to Sophie rambling, and smiles when Sophie's fingers curl around hers.

 

Shopping with Sophie is a very tiresome task, although it's also very enjoyable. Hanna tries on more clothes than she can count, Sophie constantly poking and prodding at her. She even stays in the changing room with her sometimes, which surprises Hanna after the embarrassment Sophie had exhibited when she'd helped Hanna have her first bath.

“These jeans will look absolutely brilliant on you,” Sophie says, holding up a pair. Hanna thinks they're too tight, squeezing around her legs, but Sophie's approval keeps her from protesting. Hanna picks out her own clothes as well, though. She likes colours that remind her of the forest. Greys and blues and browns and whites, clothes that are loose, that let her move. She likes dresses, too, and picks out a pair of overalls like the ones she borrowed from Sophie in Spain that she shows to Sophie and Rachel with such glee that it makes them both laugh.

Hanna takes advantage of Sophie running off to look for clothes for herself to have the conversation she needs to with Rachel.

“I think I'm a lesbian,” she says directly. Rachel stops looking at the shirt in her hands.

“What makes you think that, love?” she asks. Hanna opens her mouth to tell about how much she likes kissing Sophie, but then thinks better of it and shrugs her shoulders instead. “Well, there's nothing wrong with that. I was a lesbian once, you know. There was this lovely woman in Italy and as they say, when in Rome...” Hanna doesn't understand what “when in Rome” means, but the point is the same.

“Is it possible to like both?” she asks. “Boys and girls?”

“I've always believed that you love whoever you love, and you'll be attracted to whoever you're attracted to,” Rachel says. “Boys, girls, boys and girls, it's all the same difference.” She places the shirt in her hands back on the rack. “Didn't your father ever talk to you about this?” Hanna shakes her head and looks away. Thankfully, Sophie returns and saves Hanna from having to answer any further questions about Erik. She'll have to tell them the truth. Or she'll have to tell Rachel and Sophie at the very least. She smiles when Sophie shoves new clothes towards her, happy to hear her voice, even if she can only understand half of what she's saying due to the speed with which she's speaking.

Hanna likes the way Sophie looks at her when she thinks Hanna doesn't notice, but Hanna notices everything. She was trained to.

 

She isn't sure if Hanna realizes that she's doing it or not, but when she hears a song she knows on the radio or TV or listens to it on Sophie's computer, she hums the melody quietly to herself. She doesn't need Sophie's guidance any more, so Sophie lets her have control of the laptop at night and reads magazines instead. Half of the time she ends up watching Hanna's lips move and pretends not to, the same way she pretends to not watch how the muscles in Hanna's arms flex when she does push ups, and the same way she pretends not to imagine her abdomen doing the same when she fires off crunches one after the other like it's the easiest thing in the world. Hanna hasn't asked to kiss her again, and Sophie really wishes that she would. She can't help but be attracted and interested by the strange German girl who she met in the desert, who's DNA is abnormal and who grew up in a forest, and didn't know what music sounded like.

“Sophie?” Hanna asks, and Sophie realizes she's been staring. She clears her throat and tries to act nonchalant.

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you about who... what... I really am?” she asks, sounding scared. Sophie's attention immediately focuses entirely on the other girl. “I like you, Sophie, and I want you to know the truth.” Sophie listens while Hanna talks. Hanna doesn't seem to be completely sure of everything herself, but it's all news to Sophie, and she can tell that Hanna leaves nothing out that she doesn't know. She knows Hanna would never lie to her, not any more. And when she did it was to protect her and nothing else, not that it had really worked.

“Shit,” she says when Hanna finishes talking and is looking at her for a response. Hanna frowns at the word.

“What?” she asks.

“That's just...” Sophie fumbles for words. “You're not abnormal.”

“Yes, I am,” Hanna says sadly. Sophie knows she believes it with all her heart. She hugs her. They've never really hugged before, Sophie realizes. Hanna's arms curl around her waist and her fingers tug on the back of her shirt. Sophie strokes Hanna's hair and presses her face into Hanna's neck. She smells like soap. “Are we still friends?”

“I'll never stop being your friend, Hanna,” Sophie says. “I promise.” And she means it. She's not going to break this one.

“Good,” Hanna says. Her breath against Sophie's ear makes her shiver.

 

Sophie despises therapy. She absolutely hates it. All she wants is to be left alone and forget about everything that happened in Spain. She doesn't have nightmares with Hanna around, and the number of reporters that bother her on the street get less and less. Besides, most of her nightmares revolved around _Hanna_ being the one with a knife in her belly, not about her killing someone. It's not like Sophie actually saw him die anyway, she was just shocked at how ruthless her friend could be.

She doesn't say anything about how she thinks she might actually _be_ at least a bit gay instead of liking the idea of it. She tells the doctor that's she's stopped having nightmares and she's eating better and the reporters are moving onto different things and that she's going to be able to end her sessions soon. She leaves everything about Hanna out of the conversation.

Hanna's in the car when she's picked up outside the office. She smiles and waves when she sees Sophie and greets her before she's even shut the car door behind her.

“Did your therapy go well?” she asks, her eyes hopeful.

“Yeah, I think I'll be able to stop soon,” she says pointedly, meeting her mum's eyes in the rear view mirror.

“May we go shopping?” Hanna asks, looking over the back of the seat. “I would like to buy some music CDs.”

“She was browsing through your father and I's collection earlier,” Rachel explains. “At least I've saved one child from the horrors of a digital age.” Hanna's face lights up and she looks over at Rachel with affection in her eyes.

“Yeah, I'd love to go shopping. Mum, can we have some money, please?” Rachel sighs.

“You could always get a job, Sophie,” she says, but Sophie knows she'll get what she wants anyway. Sure enough, Rachel drops them off outside a store and hands Sophie a wad of cash. “I'll be back later, love. Have fun.” Hanna's practically bouncing on the balls of her feet and grabs a hold of Sophie's hand as soon as she can. She calms down slightly when they're in the store, letting Sophie take the lead, but never releasing her hand. She splits the money with Hanna and lets her pick what she wants first. At some point, their fingers intertwine. Hanna only buys one CD, and Sophie can't afford all the ones she wants. She spends several minutes trying to decide between an M.I.A album she doesn't have, and Cheryl Cole, all the while aware of how closely Hanna is watching her. She doesn't think anything of it though, and helps Hanna pay.

 

Hanna watches a film with the family that night, curled up next to Sophie on the sofa with their bodies pressed firmly together. Sophie thinks she's fallen asleep until she feels a hand stroking her thigh. She's glad it's dark in the room, and glad that the noise from the TV hides her gasp from her family, although she's pretty sure Hanna hears it anyway.

“Is this okay?” Hanna asks in her ear. “Is this the right thing to do?” Sophie doesn't trust herself to speak, so she nods instead. Nothing else happens. Hanna's hand doesn't stray very high and they brush their teeth together and change and go to sleep like they normally do, but Sophie has trouble sleeping with the heat coiled in her stomach demanding more. She carefully rolls over, dislodging the hand Hanna has on her hip and freezes when she hears a change in Hanna's breathing. She holds her own breath, but all Hanna does is shift ever so slightly in her sleep. Sophie can just make out her face in the dark. It makes her feel like a hopeless perv, but she can't resist the urge to feel Hanna's lips again. She keeps it short and light, with some effort, but the hope that indulging herself would help her sleep evaporates when the quick, one-sided kiss does nothing but make everything worse. She rolls away from Hanna with a sigh and squeezes her thighs together, fisting up her share of blankets in her fingers.

When she finally falls asleep, she dreams about Hanna's fingers on her thigh, except they stroke higher and higher until Sophie feels like she's going to explode.

 

She doesn't feel any better when she wakes up. Hanna's gone and the house is quiet, so Sophie rolls onto her back and shoves her hand down her pants. It doesn't take long, and it isn't brilliant, but it takes the edge off. As shitty a wank as it was, it still takes her a minute to calm down. When she opens her eyes, Hanna is staring at her curiously, obviously having just entered the room. Sophie yelps and quickly moves her hand from its place on her thigh, feeling her entire body flush.

“Are you okay?” Hanna asks innocently. “Were you exercising?” Sophie feels her cheeks burn harder.

“No,” she says and sits up and pushes the covers back. “I'm going for a shower.”

“Okay,” Hanna says and steps to the side to let Sophie through the door. Cold water doesn't help, and hot water certainly doesn't, but she goes for the more comfortable of the two and tries very hard to think about puppies or something rather than Hanna's hand on her leg (among other places). Any other girl she would have been fine with, but it has to be Hanna of all people, not that there's anything wrong with Hanna, but it'd be hard enough with someone who actually knew about things, even if they didn't know any details. Sophie sighs and rests her head against the wall, closing her eyes.

A knock on the door startles her out of her thoughts. Her skin is red and her fingers and toes have pruned, and the water's starting to go cold as well.

“Shit,” she mutters to herself, shutting off the shower with a squeak. “One second!” she calls before anyone can open the door. She wraps a towel around herself before opening it herself. Hanna is standing patiently on the other side. She stares at Sophie in a manner that could be described as obvious perving, but she somehow manages to be polite and subtle about it at the same time. Sophie has the feeling that she will never fully understand how Hanna works. She knows for sure that she'd happily spend her whole life trying.

“You were in the shower for thirty-four minutes and twenty-three seconds longer than normal,” Hanna says. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I just lost track of time,” Sophie replies. Hanna follows her back to her bedroom like the puppies Sophie tried to think of before. Hanna closes her eyes and faces away from her. “You don't have to do that every time, you know,” Sophie says without thinking. “It's not like I have anything you haven't seen before.”

“It would be rude to look,” Hanna says. Her voice is low.

“Suit yourself,” Sophie says. She chooses jeans and an doesn't bother with a shirt, just zips up an old jumper. “You can look now. Got any plans for today?”

“I was thinking I would go for a walk,” Hanna responds, following her out of the room and downstairs to get breakfast. Sophie's grown less disgusted with Hanna's eating habits. She might still be eating raw eggs for breakfast, but at least she's not slamming skinned rabbits on the table. Sophie's stomach squirms a bit when she remembers how proud Hanna had looked, and how wide her smile had been. She's so lost in her thoughts that she misses the rest of what Hanna's saying.

“What?” she says dumbly.

“I asked if you would like to come with me,” Hanna repeats. Sophie curls up in a chair with a bowl of cereal. She holds it slightly towards Hanna, raising a brow questioningly.

“I've already eaten, thank you,” Hanna says politely. “Are you going to come with me?” Sophie shakes her head.

“I don't really feel like being mobbed by reporters today,” she says.

“I wouldn't let anyone hurt you,” Hanna says sincerely, “but, okay.” She gets to her feet.

“You'll come back, won't you?” Sophie asks as Hanna's in the doorway.

“Of course I'll come back,” Hanna says. She smiles, and leaves Sophie alone in an empty house.

She's so bored that she ends up cleaning the dishes, and her bedroom as well. She tries to read an issue of Heat but quickly grows bored of it, especially when she's read this particular issue already, obviously the reason why it had been shoved under her bed. She tries to watch TV but nothing's on, she's listens to music but everything makes her think of Hanna. Sophie sighs. Sometimes she's thankful for Hanna's naivety, or the incident this morning would have been a billion times more awkward.

She's lounged on the sofa when her parents come home, Miles trailing in behind them. She informs them that Hanna's still out. While her family doesn't seem to be too worried about Hanna, Sophie can't help but be the exact opposite, especially since Hanna doesn't have a mobile that she can just call to make sure the other girl is okay. She tries not to think too much about it. She has no reason to be worried about Hanna after all. She _did_ watch her kill someone with little effort. And those guys were like, trained killers or something. It's not like some shitty little street gang is going to give her any trouble.

When Hanna finally returns, it's well past dinner and a good ways into the evening, Miles having been put to bed and her parents retreating to their room not long after. She's unharmed when she steps in the door though, and she's holding a small bag in one hand. Sophie's not concerned with it though. She throws her arms around Hanna as soon as she steps into the room.

“Where have you been?” Sophie asks. “I've been worried sick about you.”

“I had dinner at McDonald's,” she says, squirming slightly in Sophie's arms until she's in a position to return the hug. “I didn't like it very much though. It tastes very... funny. You needn't worry about me, Sophie.” Sophie consciously has to make herself let go. She locks the door behind Hanna and leads the other girl upstairs by the hand.

“We need to get you a mobile,” Sophie says. “A pay and go one or something.”

“Pay and go?” Hanna asks.

“Yeah, you like, put money in an account instead of paying a bill every month.” She sees the gears in Hanna's head turning.

“I think Papa mentioned that people cannot track those,” she said. “Or they have a harder time doing so. I should like to have one. Would I be able to... text you?”

“Until your balance ran up, yeah,” Sophie replies. Hanna sets her bag down on the sleeping roll she's never used and pulls on the pyjama set that she picked out shopping the other day. It's Christmas themed, with little reindeer on it, but Hanna said that it reminded her of the fawns in her forest. Sophie thinks she looks rather adorable. She sits in bed and waits with her laptop ready to introduce new music to Hanna. Hanna picks up her bag and turns away from Sophie. She hears rustling, and then Hanna says,

“Sophie, close your eyes.” Sophie furrows her brow slightly, but shuts her eyes anyway. She feels the bed dip as Hanna sits, and feels her laptop being taken out of her hands, and hears the lid softly snap shut. “Okay. Open them.” Hanna's holding a small, wrapped package in her hands, and smiling widely.

“What's that?” Sophie asks. Hanna holds it out to her, still smiling.

“It's a gift,” Hanna says. “Did I do something wrong?” Sophie shakes her head.

“Why did you get me a gift?” Hanna shrugs.

“Open it,” she urges, looking more eager than Sophie is. Sophie carefully peels back the wrapping paper, somewhat crudely taped around the package. Inside are the CDs that Sophie had looked at in the shop, but hadn't been able to buy. She looks back up at the pride and happiness spreading across Hanna's face, the white of her teeth, how blue her eyes are. Even when it's been brushed her hair still looks as wild as ever.

“Oh, sod it,” Sophie whispers, and raises her hands to hold Hanna's cheeks, leaning forward until their lips meet. Hanna gasps softly, her hands coming to rest on Sophie's bare knees. The touch burns. Her hands moves to Hanna's hair, twirling her fingers around it. She leans back at the same time that Hanna pushes forward, unfolding her legs and letting the other girl settle between her thighs. Hanna's a much better kisser than she initially thought. A small, dark, jealous part of her wonders if Hanna had lied about only kissing her, or if she's been out kissing boys whenever Sophie isn't around, but she knows the idea is ridiculous. Hanna's stupidly loyal to her, she's just an insanely fast learner. Sophie supposes she'd have to be, being who she is.

Hanna's hands slide up her thighs, resting just against the waist of her shorts, her kiss growing firmer. Sophie tangles her hands further in Hanna's hair and lets herself be slid down onto her back, Hanna hovering over her with her hair falling like a pale curtain around them. She doesn't expect Hanna's hands under her shirt but suddenly they're there, feeling their way along her stomach and sides. Sophie hears herself gasp and squirms slightly. Hanna's lips leave hers.

“Is this okay?” she asks, her voice a rough whisper. “Am I doing everything right?” Sophie's theory that Hanna's voice couldn't possibly get more attractive blows up in her face.

“Yeah, just, slow down a bit, yeah?” Hanna nods.

“Okay,” she says, and goes back to kissing Sophie. Her hands remain under Sophie's shirt, but they merely rest and stroke, rather than swiftly moving a path up to her tits, which Sophie's not quite sure she's a hundred percent ready for, regardless of how much she wants the attention. She's pretty sure Hanna doesn't exactly understand what foreplay is, but Sophie's guidance is more than enough to keep her on track. She seems more interested in kissing than anything else, but Sophie can feel tension in her fingers where they rest on her skin.

Eventually, it's too much for Sophie to handle, especially lacking Hanna's patience. She pushes the girl away, which earns her a confused and slightly hurt look until she struggles getting her shirt over her head. When she meets Hanna's eyes again, they're dark and her lips are parted slightly. Sophie pauses for a moment, forgetting that being in her pyjamas means no bra, and becoming extremely aware of her body and Hanna's eyes on her.

“You are so beautiful,” Hanna whispers. It's the only thing that stops Sophie from scrambling under the covers or covering her chest with her arms. She blushes instead. “Are we going to have sex? Should I take my clothes off now?” Sophie nods mutely. She's jealous of the amount of comfort Hanna exhibits putting her body on display. She just looks like a skinny little teenager, nothing like the trained killer Sophie knows she is, but she can see the outline of muscles beneath her pale skin. She takes a deep breath, and wiggles out of her shorts, and half pulls Hanna back on top of her.

It's much different than she thought it would be. She has to guide Hanna a fair amount, but Jesus, the things that girl can do with her fingers with only the slightest amount of direction. The other girl has her squirming and digging her hands into her sheets, struggling to stay quiet within a few minutes. Each time she manages to open her eyes, Hanna is gazing at her with an amazed look in her eyes, like this is the most beautiful thing she's ever witnessed in her life. Sophie has to bite into her hand to avoid waking anyone up. The look of satisfaction on Hanna's face make the teeth marks worth it.

Sophie quickly learns that Hanna likes being kissed regardless of whatever else Sophie is doing to her. It's sexy as hell feeling and hearing her gasp and whimper against Sophie's lips. Hanna doesn't make much noise. It's better than those obviously fake moans Sophie always heard the women in porn films making. Sophie knows she's close when Hanna kisses her hard and then pushes her face firmly against Sophie's neck. She feels Hanna exhale against her skin, and her body relaxes. Sophie smiles, slips to the side, and buries the both of them beneath her blankets, curling her body around Hanna's.

 

She lives in Haxby, population eight thousand seven hundred and fifty-four peoples, in a small house near a park with her own family. A real family. She has a... girlfriend named Sophie. She thinks she's in love with her.  

 


End file.
